Page:The Yellow Book - 03.djvu/309

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A Ballad of a Nun

By John Davidson

From Eastertide to EastertideFor ten long years her patient kneesEngraved the stones—the fittest brideOf Christ in all the diocese.
She conquered every earthly lust;The abbess loved her more and more;And, as a mark of perfect trust,Made her the keeper of the door.
High on a hill the convent hungAcross a duchy looking down,Where everlasting mountains flungTheir shadows over tower and town.
The jewels of their lofty snowsIn constellations flashed at night;Above their crests the moon arose;The deep earth shuddered with delight.

Long

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